


The Heart Longs for Who It Needs

by blothhound



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Bookstore AU, Celebrity AU, Modern AU, More tags to be added, Other, Sexual References, also bh is a lot more cocky, artur hates elliott, based on canon, bloodhound always thinks in poetry, bloodhound doesn't wear a mask in this one, bloodhound face hc, bloodhound is named "bloth" in this, bloodhound isn't as formal in this one, bookstore owner bloodhound, celebrity mirage, constantly editing :(, he's so toxic in this one, i wanted to write a more elliott-centered fic, it's real intense from the get go, my 2am rambles basically, self depricating elliott, set on earth, so many raw feelings, they make each other angy a lot!, very emotional, very full of himself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21816319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blothhound/pseuds/blothhound
Summary: Elliott gave them a familiar smile, the same smile that made them fall in love countless times over. "Still as stunning as ever," he whispered.×Elliott Witt is what you would consider a horrible human being, by general standards. He is stuck-up, ignorant, and can't seem to be himself. He has the attention of the whole world, with him being a celebrity and all, but he's still missing one thing in life: love of any kind.Bloth is a simple, down-to-earth bookstore owner. They spend their time tending to their bookstore targeted to magic and paganism, and when they aren't doing that, they're spoiling their pet raven Artur.When the two meet, they're polar opposites and can barely keep a conversation. But Bloth can tell that Elliott is not just a one-layered hálfviti, and Elliott can't help but stick around with them.This is the tale of how Elliott Witt finally learns to love himself and appreciate things in life other than fame, and how Bloth is the one to teach him that.
Relationships: Bloodhound/Mirage | Elliott Witt, miragehound - Relationship
Comments: 16
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another miragehound fic?!  
> Nobody else was going to write a modern au.  
> Thank you for reading : )
> 
> Criticism is appreciated!

Elliott Witt, labeled many times as “the most charming man in the world” and the leading actor in dozens of romantic comedies and action movies, was now completely alone and a failure to even himself.

“Piece of _shit_! You never even cared about anything except yourself! Get out!” His now-ex slammed the door in front of him.

He stood there silently as lightning crackled above his head and illuminated the sky. He slowly grabbed his soaked backpack from the ground and began to walk in a seemingly random direction.

“This is gonna ruin my hair,” he muttered.

The realization that he was alone once again had not set in. This happened all the time. People got bored of him, left him, forgot about him… he tried to ignore the fact that he would end up in a depressed phase by the end of the week. It always happened. He was, as he dubbed himself, the forgettable, annoying, fraud of a person named Elliott Witt, and he was sure everyone else felt the same way about him.

Every building down the street was closed, their lights shut off. Elliott compulsively shivered as the rain trickled down the back of his hoodie.

Where could he go?

None of his “friends” would be willing to let him stay on their couches. Forget renting a hotel room; he was broke. His mom lived forever away, and she had her own problems to deal with other than her failure of a son. She couldn’t even remember his name, half the time. He didn't even bring up the thought of asking his brothers for help.

Elliott scowled to himself. “Nice fucking job, Elliott,” he said. “Why don’t you make up another irresistible personality so that you can scam a place to stay for the night off of someone?”

As he walked down the dark, wet street, he saw a light on in a distant shop window. He had never been this far down the street; he had no interest in the shops in the area. But maybe he could use his charming flirts to get a place to sleep and get out of the storm.

He approached the store, and squinted at the sign above the door. “ _Töfrandi_ Books”, it read. A foreign book store. Great. He hoped that the owner knew at least a bit of English.

Inside, a lamp on the counter was on, but no one was behind the counter. The sign on the window said they were open. Maybe the owner was off pissing around in the back.

Raising a hand, Elliott knocked on the door. He heard what sounded like a bird - _a live bird?_ \- cawing inside, and a figure popped their head out from behind a tall bookshelf.

“Come in,” the owner yelled to Elliott.

Elliott slowly turned the knob, then shut the door behind him. Water dripped from his clothes onto the carpet, and he quickly stepped off of it onto the hardwood floor. “I'm sorry,” Elliott said.

The owner had stepped out from behind the bookshelf and shook their head. “It is fine. It will dry up quick.”

Elliott glanced at the owner of the shop after hearing their lilting accent. The first thing he noticed was their thick, burgundy hair. It hung around their shoulders, and there were a couple of small braids tucked behind their ears.

He then noticed the assortment of scars that crossed their nose and cheeks. The light markings contrasted with their darker, hazel skin tone.

“It is extremely rude to stare.” They squinted their dark, enigmatic eyes at him.

Elliott jumped at their sharp tone, then cleared his throat. “Uh, I got caught in the storm.”

“I can tell.”

 _Wow, they’re vocal about what they’re thinking. At least they speak English._ Elliott shrugged uncomfortably. “Can I chill here? It’s pretty dreary and cold outside, and your shop just looked so warm and cozy…”

They glanced up at down at Elliott, as if they were inspecting him.

“Checking me out?” He purred.

Rolling their eyes, the shop owner turned to the counter and picked up a book. “I assume you want a place to stay for the night, and not just to chill here.”

Elliott furrowed his brows. Could they hear his fight with his ex from all the way down the street? “How’d you know?”

They motioned towards the backpack. “You have a lonely, desperate energy coming from you.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it quickly. _They're not wrong about that,_ he thought to himself. “So can I stay?”

“You are the type to think he can get anything he wants, right?” They seemed to have a small smirk on their face.

Elliott scoffed. _What is their problem?_ “Uh, no. Why do you think you know so much about me?”

“I don’t know anything about you. I am only assuming.”

 _Assuming makes an ass out of you and me._ He was about to walk right out of that shop and try to find another place he could stay. But thunder clapped outside, and the lights flickered within the store. Sighing, Elliott held out his hand. “I’m sorry. We got off on the wrong foot. I’m Elliott.”

The owner walked closer to him and gingerly took his hand. “You can call me Bloth.” As they stepped back, a raven flew from out of nowhere and landed on Elliott’s shoulder.

He jumped and covered his already-messy hair. “W- why is there a whole ass _crow_ inside?!”

Bloth held their arm out, and the raven flew to their hand. “This ‘whole ass crow’ is Artur. He is actually a raven, and he is my pet.”

Elliott bashfully looked away. “I, uh… that’s cool. Didn’t know ravens could be pets.” _They won't let you stay if you keep being this rude._

“Mhm,” they replied.

An awkward silence formed between them, and Elliott glanced around the room. He hadn’t noticed it before, but there were plants _everywhere._ He spotted a large cow skull hanging on the wall, and what seemed to be a real human skull on the counter. He shivered a bit.

“You can stay. I live above the shop; there is a guest bedroom that you can use.”

Elliott raised his eyebrows. _An effortless victory! I didn’t even have to flirt with them._ “Thank you. I appreciate it.” He flashed them one of his grins that made his many fans swoon.

Bloth had already turned around and was flipping through the pages of a book.

The lights flickered once more above them, and Elliott yawned. “So, uh, how do I get upstairs?”

“In the back,” Bloth said, disinterested. “There is a staircase.”

 _Oh, so now they don’t have anything to say, no jabs at my attractive personality?_ He kept his mouth shut, for he didn’t want them to change their mind about letting him stay.

As he walked into the back of the store, past bookshelves full of old novels and over the tribal rugs, he became a bit intrigued. _Exactly what kind of bookstore does this person have?_

He slowly climbed the stairs and realized he had never asked them where the guest bedroom was. Time to do some snooping. He had a valid reason, albeit not very moral. They were too lazy to show him where to go, he assumed.

At the top of the stairs, Elliott felt a gust of wind as the black bird flew past him and perched on a table in the living room. It glared at him, and Elliott felt his stomach drop, although he did not know why.

“Scary bird…” he mumbled. “How about you show me where this guest bedroom is?” Elliott began to walk down a hallway.

“Not that way.”

Elliott jumped and quickly turned around. “I knew it! I knew it. You’re some kind of shapeshifter and you and your owner are going to sacr- sa- sacrifi-”

He saw Bloth standing at the top of the staircase, giving him a look as if they were mocking him. “Artur can’t talk, you know.”

“God, I knew that. I just…” Elliott exhaled sharply. “You scared me.”

Bloth walked over to a door on the opposite end of the room and opened it. “Here.”

“Are you going to sleep, too?” Elliott stood at the doorway and leaned against the wall, his arm positioned above Bloth’s head. “I’m sure there’s enough room on the bed for two.”

They moved away from him. “No, I have to finish a few things down in the shop.”

 _Make a spell to kill me, you mean?_ Elliott repositioned the backpack that slung over his shoulder. “Uh, thank you, Bl- Blo-”

“Bloth.”

“Thanks, Bloth.”

With a small, polite smile, they went back downstairs, Arthur on their shoulder.

Elliott closed the door and finally took a good look at the room. Simple and modern compared to the shop downstairs. A thin layer of dust was settled on the top of the vanity. He didn't expect them to have many guests. _Maybe that skull downstairs was from their last guest._

Hastily, Elliott dropped his backpack onto the ground and began to remove his moist clothes. With only his boxers on, he turned and looked at his taut biceps in the mirror. He traced the outline of his pecs with his index finger. “Incredibly handsome, like always,” he whispered.

 _And full of yourself,_ he added in his head. _So full of yourself that you expect everything to work out for you. Everyone to like you._

Elliott scowled at his reflection in the mirror and crawled into the bed. His sore muscles were immediately relaxed as he pulled the heavy comforter over himself.

He felt a bit guilty for being so bitter to Bloth earlier. They had, in fact, offered a place for him to stay for the night. He snuggled deeper into the warm blanket and focused on the gentle patter of rain against the window to help him fall asleep.

Suddenly, a pain grew inside his heart. He realized, finally, that he was once again alone in the world, and it was all his fault.

 _Yep, here it is._ He pressed his palms against his eyes. _Realizing how badly I fucked up._

His ex wasn’t even that bad of a person. His name was… _Ah, shit, I can’t even remember._ How long had they even dated? It didn’t matter. Elliott got affection and attention from another human being, and that’s all he wanted. And a good bang, if Elliott begged him enough.

What kind of life was this? When was the last time he was seriously happy? Happy with himself? Genuine and truthful with himself and another person?

He couldn’t lie; sometimes he wanted a real partner that he could be honest with and rely on. That he could be himself with.

Oh, God, how he hated this act.

With a lump forming in his throat, he fell into a dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

“Good morning, baby!” Elliott lifted his arms in the air and felt his tight muscles stretch under his skin. He let out a big sigh.

He reached over to embrace his lover, but he was alone in the bed. An unfamiliar bed. And a room that he totally didn’t recognize.

SItting up quickly, he looked around for the owner of the house. A black bird was perched on the vanity across the room.

“Oh, I forgot. I’m in a witch’s hut.” He waved a hand at the raven. “Shoo, shoo, I need to get dressed!”

The bird squawked at him and flew out the door. As Elliott watched him leave, he smelled something meaty, greasy, and very unhealthy. His mouth began to water. _Bacon…_

Quickly changing into a shirt from his backpack and some jeans, he walked out of his room and was met with Bloth placing big, wavy piles of bacon onto plates on the table.

They noticed him standing there, and awkwardly placed the pan back onto the stovetop. They were dressed in a simple t-shirt and sweatpants. Their arms had various intricate, spirally tattoos. “You’re awake. I was making breakfast for myself, but I assume you are hungry as well.”

“I am, I am!” Elliott stood in place for a moment, unsure if he should sit down at the table or, just maybe, they had realized who he was and had fallen head over heels for him and they wanted a giant smooch from the handsome Elliott Witt to thank them for the - _God, it smells so good, -_ breakfast.

Bloth motioned to the bacon. “Dig in. If you would like, I can make eggs, too.”

“No, uh, Bl...”

“Bloth.”

“Bloth! No eggs. You didn’t even have to offer me any bacon.” He slowly sat in a chair. “This is great.”

They shrugged. “Of course it is. I cooked it.”

 _Ooh, cocky._ He grabbed a piece of thick, oily bacon and shoved it in his mouth. His stomach growled, begging for more.

He could hear Bloth chuckle from the stove. “You sure you wouldn’t like some eggs?”

“Actually, um, yes please,” he replied meekly.

After Bloth finished cooking the eggs, they placed them on Elliott’s plate and sat down across the table from him.

Every now and then, he would glance up and watch them eat quietly.

“You must have a real problem with staring.”

Elliott looked away bashfully. “Sorry, you’re some stranger that invited me into their home… for free, from what it seems like so far, and I-”

“Ah, that is what I wanted to discuss with you.”

He wiped away the excess yolk from his mustache with the back of his hand. “Huh? What?”

Bloth tore off a bit of bacon and held it out for Artur, who gobbled it up and chirped in appreciation. “I let you stay the night, and I gave you breakfast. The least you can do is work for me for a little bit.”

“ _Work for you?”_

“Yes, as a cashier. You can provide some extra hands around the store.” Small traces of a smirk formed on their lips. “Unless, maybe, you would prefer to stand outside and wave a sign to advertise?”

Elliott scoffed. “ _Me?_ Being some little… what do you call them? ‘Advertiser Boy’? Standing out on the street and looking like a bafo- baboo- a dork? Nah.”

“That is what I thought. I am guessing you have no current place to live. I’ll let you stay in the guest bedroom as long as you help me in the store for only a few hours a day.”

Taking a moment to think about it, Elliott realized how good of a deal it actually was. “Is breakfast included?”

“Sure. Lunch and dinner as well, if I don’t decide to eat out.”

How could he say no? Free food, basically! All he had to do was work a few hours a day. That was easy compared to the process of filming a movie. Hours on set... Reaching across the table, Elliott held out his hand to shake on it. “Hell yeah.”

Bloth lightly took his hand in theirs. They held it for a split second before letting go. “You ought to wash your hands.”

Elliott grabbed a paper towel and wiped at his hands. “So, new roomie-”

“That’s not a polite name to call your boss.”

After rolling his eyes, he saw that they were holding a hand to their mouth to try and conceal their laugh. They already knew how to press his buttons, and the two had only met yesterday! “Bloth. Tell me.”

“What?” They petted Artur, who was staring at Elliott with a mocking aura.

“First off, your crow-”

“Raven.”

“You interrupt a lot-”

“You stare a lot.”

Pointing a fork at them, Elliott continued. “Your _raven._ What’s up with him. You sure he isn’t a shapeshifter?”

They squinted at him. “You’re being _fáránlegt_.”

“Did you just… put a spell on me? A hex? Are you a wizard?”

“No. That was a word from my native tongue. I said you are being ridiculous.” Bloth reached their arms above their head and stretched. “You are quite nosy.”

Elliott ignored the comment. “Native tongue? Elvish? Was it an Elvish word?”

They huffed. “No, it’s Icelandic.” Bloth was not easy to get irritated, but Elliott was just the right guy for the job.

“What’s your shop about?” Elliott tried to remember the name of the shop, but it was some foreign word… probably Icelandic. “And what’s the name?”

“It’s…” Bloth tapped a finger on the table while they thought of an answer. “How can I put it in simplest terms for a dense, average man like yourself?”

Shoving the last of his egg in his mouth, Elliott replied, “I’m above average in more ways than one, sweetheart.”

Scoffing, Bloth stood up from the table and grabbed the plate from in front of him. Elliott tried to reach for the last slice of bacon on his plate, but they grabbed it before he could and took a large bite out of it.

“You’re mean!” Elliott pouted and sat back in his chair, waiting for their answer.

“You are so childish.” They placed the plate in the sink and turned to face him, once again showing a slight smile on their face. “It’s… I guess the most accurate description is that it is a pagan bookstore.”

He scooted away a bit as Bloth’s pet jumped over to his side of the table and squawked at him. “And the name?”

“It roughly means ‘Magical Books’.” When they saw Elliott’s eyebrow raise, they shyly held their hands up. “I am not that creative.”

“I can tell,” Elliott said simply.

Bloth walked to the table and held their arm out for Artur to climb on it. “Oh? It seems like you’re hinting at something other than my shop name.”

Pretending to examine his nails, Elliott let out a sigh. “That guest bedroom is pretty boring.”

Bloth paused before answering him. _What a bother._ “You are the only guest I have had in… years. And I never go into that room. What did you expect, a fine art piece and nice, colorful bedsheets? Anyways, it is your room to decorate how you wish now.”

“When I saw your shop full of skulls and cool carpets and decorations, I really expected your house to be a lot more…”

“Creepy?”

“Sure.”

Placing a hand on Elliott’s shoulder, they sighed. “You just haven’t looked close enough.”

He glanced down at their hand, a gentle tan color, and then back to their face. He felt his stomach twist for a moment as their eyes met. “Looked?”

Shaking their head, Bloth took their hand off of him and began to walk to their room. “Go open up shop downstairs.”

Elliott looked around the room for any creepy decor but didn’t see any. It looked like a normal dining room, with a simple wooden table and a tiled kitchen. Although, on the fridge were a few… drawings? They were too simple to really be called 'drawings'. There were an awful lot of jars of herbs sitting around, too.

Returning to his room, Elliott slipped on his shoes and grabbed his toothbrush and comb, then wandered through the hallway till he found the bathroom to brush his teeth and fix his hair. After a tough struggle with a certain curl that would not stay down, Elliott went down to the shop. He walked to the door to flip the ‘closed’ sign to the ‘open’ side, but it was already changed.

“You took too long,” Bloth’s voice quipped from behind the counter. He noticed they had changed out of their nighttime attire into a nicer-looking shirt and pants.

Elliott did feel a bit ashamed. Bloth was being way too generous, and he was doing everything half-assed. The least he could do was try his best to help in the shop.

“Sorry, Bloth.” He stepped behind the counter and stood beside them. “Alrighty. What now?”

They shrugged. “I guess, for now, just put these new books in the catalog.”

Elliott looked to the stack of books in a cardboard box behind the counter, then looked across the countertop for a computer. “Where’s the computer to type it all in?”

“We don’t need one.” Bloth leaned down and lifted a book from a shelf under the counter. They huffed as they placed it in front of Elliott. It was a huge book. “You can write them all in here.”

“All those?” He gestured to the box of books. “I’ll break my hand from writing them all down!”

“I’ve managed.” They walked past him and went to one of the bookshelves near the back. “You do not have to write down a lot. Just write down the name, the author, the year published, and today’s date.”

“I can’t pronounce half of these book titles!” Elliott sighed. “This’ll take forever.”

Bloth pouted their lip a bit to mock him. “Poor you.”

Elliott’s mind quickly wandered over the realization of how full their lips looked. He gently shook his head to clear the thought. “Do I at least get a chair?”

Smiling, Bloth gestured to a chair sitting by the sorting cart. They knew he would like it better than one of the boring wooden chairs they had around the shop. “You can use the spinny one.”

“Hell yeah!” Elliott grabbed it and rolled it over to the counter. He sat down in it and did a small spin. “My work m... morale just boosted, times a million.”

“Good. And, Elliott,” they gazed at him.

Elliott turned his chair to face them after an extra spin and grinned. “Yeah, Bloth?”

“Try not to make any mistakes.” They pointed to the human skull on the counter. “I trust you to be able to do it correctly.”

Slowly, Elliott turned back to the book. “Mhm, gotcha… I’m always perfect. At everything. So don’t worry.”

 _What a scary wizard,_ he thought. _Oop, sorry, I meant ‘what a scary normal human’. Just to make sure… cough if you can hear my thoughts._

Bloth stayed silent from across the shop, save for the sound of pages turning.

_Okay, good. Good! Life is okay right now. Got a place to stay, got some free food, got a job… awesome. Although my income is just being able to get a room and stuff. When was my last movie? Nearly a year ago? I need to get another gig. I need the money for… for..._

Elliott’s stomach twisted at the thought of acting in another movie. He didn’t even know why. _They must have hexed me._ _I'm never this willing to work._ Focusing on the task at hand, he secretly promised Bloth that from this moment on he would do the best he could. Perhaps this was the start of his journey towards becoming a better person.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will admit, this fic is a bit more intense than my other one. this isn't a vent, but just a way for me to practice the more emotional sides of characters, hehe.  
> thank you for reading : )

Elliott flexed his hand. He had written so much in that stupid old-fashioned inventory book that now his hand was sore and hurt to move.

Looking over, Bloth watched him gently pull at each of his fingers. “I’m so used to doing it that I didn’t realize how taxing it is on your hands,” they commented, somewhat guiltily.

Shrugging, Elliott looked back up at the television. _Wouldn’t it be absolutely-fuckin’-hilarious if one of my crummy movies came on? “Woah, Elliott, that’s you!” Yep, that’s me, let’s observe as I do any gig I can catch so that everyone knows who I am and I can get the money to-_ “It’s fine, I guess. Someone had to do it.”

Bloth held their hand with their palm up to Elliott.

He tilted his head at their gesture. “Offering me a slow dance? How cute.”

They shook their head. “My hands used to cramp up, too. Let me help you.”

Carefully, Elliott placed his sore hand in theirs, and they began to run their thumbs over the muscles and massage them. Elliott watched as their face seemed calm, dreamy, sleepy. This moment was oddly familiar. A dark room lit only by the artificial light of technology, the gentle touch from someone who was basically a stranger to him, and the comfy couch that he seemingly sank into.

The face of someone he had fallen in love with long ago popped into his mind, and he winced.

Bloth stopped rubbing his hand. “Did I hurt you?” They asked.

He blushed a bit. “Huh? No, I’m just ti- tha- thinking. Sorry. Please keep doing it, it’s nice.” They continued to ease his pain silently.

Their hand massage did help him. His hand was already beginning to feel better. But with his real shitty ability to fall head-over-heels with anyone who showed genuine compassion for him, he knew he had to pull his hand away from theirs before he was dreaming of embracing them every single night in his dreams.

Bloth let go of his hand and gestured for his other one. Elliott looked into their eyes, still dark and brooding even with the TV reflecting off of them. Their lips were pursed. Plump, wet, pink, soft. When he didn’t move, they leaned back and continued to watch the sitcom on TV without another glance at him. Artur could be heard letting out little chirps as he snored in his bed. _His own bed? That bird really is spoiled._

Slowly, Elliott turned his head back to the television. _Pathetic, isn’t it? As soon as anyone even_ acts _like they care about you, you start lusting over them. Very emotional, very pathetic. You will get hurt. They are your boss. They are a stranger that offered you a place to stay. You have known them for a full twenty-four hours._ His hand could still feel their fingers pressing deep into his muscles, relaxing them and caressing them.

Did they care? Did they genuinely want him to feel better? Or did they just pity him? “Oh, what a sad man. I will provide him a place to stay so he isn’t out on the streets and adding to the ever-growing population of drug-addicted, depressed people,” they were probably thinking. “At least I can make him work for me while I sit around and read another book about how to curse people. Perhaps I shall put a spell on him, test out some new hexes on h-”

“You do not look very well,” they whispered. Elliott glanced and saw they were staring at him with a concerned look. Their perfect eyes were squinting, their light dimples showing on their cheeks as they straightened their lips into a worried, straight line. His stomach dropped, the way one would feel when they are on a long trip and thinking about their own home a million miles away. _Lonely, lonely, lonely._

“I- I think I’m going to head to bed,” Elliott murmured. Bloth blinked at him. They studied his face; the way his beard needed a trim, his eyes that were a gentle hazel, and the crow’s feet that were developing at the corners. _What are you thinking about, Elliott Witt?_

He got up from the couch and waved to them once he reached the guest bedroom door. “G’night, Bloth.”

“Um, goodnight.” They gave him a small smile and he quietly shut the door behind him. They did not pay attention to whatever show was playing. At that moment, staring directly into Elliott’s eyes, they felt as if he wanted to say something.

It was obvious he was hurting in some way.

They could tell that he did not want them to know he was _the_ Elliott Witt, star of popular (and quite frankly shitty) movies such as “The Night of the Living Mummies”, “I Would Sail the World for You”, and “The Three-Hundredth Dimension”. If he did want them to know, wouldn’t he have mentioned it by now? He must have assumed they were a secluded hermit, mentally devoid of popular culture. He seemed like the type to want attention, so he must tell everyone that he was a movie star so they swoon over him. Why not them?

The way he flinched at their touch and how he seemed to stare at him as if they had saved his life. What had happened to make him act this way? Why was he wandering around in the middle of the night during a thunderstorm? Some deep, human urge in them made them want to hold him close and tell him it was okay, that he would be okay. They knew he needed to hear that; it didn’t matter who said it to him.

Strangely, they felt as if they knew Elliott already. As if they had been acquaintances in the past, or they were already connected somehow. Bloth was not a people person, but talking to Elliott was the easiest thing to do. He was just so… friendly. Open. They couldn't help but tease him as well. He was a bit of a dope.

Bloth had not lived with anyone in years, let alone dated anyone. They had known this man for only a day. Despite all that, they knew Elliott was brought to them with a purpose, and they were determined to fulfill that destiny.

Leaning against the wall, Elliott rubbed his eyes. The mental image of their lips brushing against his own just as their hands had touched his wouldn’t leave his mind. Their body getting closer to his, their natural aroma filling his nose as they gripped his sensitive hips and thighs. Their accent sending shivers throughout his body as they whispered sweet nothings into his ears.

He meekly began to think of something vile to rid of the lustful, painful fantasy and to get rid of his bodily reaction that was increasingly uncomfortable in his tight jeans. Vomiting in a stranger’s bathroom as he drank too much at his first 'cool kid' teenage party, his first dog being hit by a car while he and his brothers played outside, the sickly smell of a hospital. His mom laying there. His mom lying there in the hospital bed and staring with vacant eyes as she tried to search through the depths of her deteriorating brain to remember her son’s name. “Me, Elliott,” he was saying to her. Begging her, “Mother, I’m here. Elliott.”

He shakily brought a hand to his mouth to keep a sob from escaping. He thought about Bloth and him sitting on the couch together in the living room, them touching his hand gently. He imagined them moving their hand up his arm and grasping at his bicep, then cupping his cheek as they leaned in and light breaths touched his lips and god damn he wanted to touch them or someone.

He was very horny. And lonely. The two feelings were practically the same, at least for him.

Even after knowing them barely a day, he felt relaxed around them. They didn’t seem judgmental at all. He didn’t have to act like a complete fucking moron or a funny douche for them to pay him any attention.

To someone or something out there, he prayed Bloth didn’t know who he was and just felt pity for him because he was a cool movie star. He could change. He wanted to change. Oh, damn, he wanted to change and be himself and find a real person that liked the real him and lead a happy life of being himself.

After running his hand across his eyes to make sure it wasn’t obvious he was in there having a breakdown, and adjusting his pants to avoid an awkward encounter, he stepped out of his room. Walking into the living room, he watched silently as Bloth kissed the top of Artur’s head. They murmured something in their language.

“Can I use your shower?” He asked.

Bloth turned around, seeming to know he was already there. Artur perched on their wrist and stared at him. “If you’d like. I thought you were going to bed.” They got up from the couch. “Let me show you where the towels are and how to use the shower.”

Elliott followed them and they led him to a closet next to the bathroom. He noticed he was a few inches taller than them, and could easily use their head as an armrest if he wanted to. _Wouldn’t that be funny, even if the outcome was probably a curse that gave him only a few days left to live?_

Bloth grabbed a fluffy brown towel and handed it to him. They then walked into the bathroom and motioned to Elliott to come stand beside them.

“Alright,” they pointed at the dial. “Push it in and turn it. That’s all.”

Elliott smiled kindly at them. “That’s all? You were acting as if it would be difficult.”

“I wanted to make sure you knew how.” They backed out of the bathroom and leaned against the doorway. “You can use whatever soaps are in there. We should make a trip to the store to grab some stuff for you if you plan on living here a while.”

Bloth looked so comfortable, so casual, attractive, as they gazed at him. Artur had moved up to their shoulder and was cradled in their neck, partially covered by their hair.

“Uh, that’d be great.” Elliott absentmindedly ran his hand over the soft towel. “This weekend? So we can, like, go when the shop is closed.”

They shrugged. “If you would like.” Brushing a stray hair behind their ear, they turned to give Elliott some privacy to take his shower.

Without thinking, he reached out to grab their arm. Artur squawked at him, and Bloth narrowed their eyes. He let go of them and cleared his throat. “Um, have I told you thank you?”

They nodded. “You have a few times.”

“Thank you,” Elliott said once more. “I mean it.”

Bloth turned their eyes downwards, then back up to him. “I wanted to help you. I want to help you now, too.” With that, they left the bathroom and went into the living room.

Elliott watched them walk into the dark hallway, then turned to the shower. “Push ‘n turn, right?” He muttered to himself. It took him a couple of tries before he successfully turned on the water, despite the easy instructions.

The hot water beating against his back did wonders for him, and he felt his muscles relax. He picked up each of the soaps on the shelf against the wall. They were marketed towards those with “luscious, thick hair”. He put just a glob of shampoo into his hand, then lifted it to his nose and took a whiff. _Kind of citrus-y_. He ran it through his curls and dug his fingers into his scalp.

How intimate it was to share the same cleansing products and to use their shower. He imagined the hot water seeping through their long hair, their fingers working their way through their braids to undo them. Their fawn, wet skin, shiny and acquiring a pink tone from the hot water hitting their body.

Elliott groaned and shut his eyes tightly.

He then thought of them sitting on the couch, gazing at him as they waited for him to hand them his other weak hand. Their dimples that only appeared with a grimace. Maybe they had dimples when they smiled wide, but he had yet to see them do more than a kind simper. Their ethereal, dark eyes making contact with his tired, dull ones. The gentle kiss that they planted on the top of Artur’s head.

Of course. It was inevitable. Elliott Witt had, somehow, fallen in love with yet another stranger.

He knew he was going to get hurt.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year : )

“Shotgun!” Elliott ran for the passenger’s seat, despite Bloth already saying they would drive and there being nobody else to compete with for ‘shotgun’.

Bloth tied their hair up in a bunch once they got into the car. “It is hot out today,” they remarked, quickly turning on the car and opening the windows.

With a glance, Elliott noticed they had a clean undercut, hidden by their long hair. The braided segment of their hair was kept out of the ponytail and hung against their cheek. Piercings lined their earlobes as well. “The weather isn’t the only thing hot.” _Mr. Smooth. Smoothest of them all._

Their olive eyes narrowed at his quip. “That’s a very cute line, but it could have been worded better.”

“Um, I think you’re hot.”

“Now you sound like you are cat-calling me.”

Elliott pursed his lips. “I mean it! You don’t often see someone with such… captivating looks.”

With a small smirk, they rolled their eyes. _Of course, he is cute, but he is bad at flirting._ They pulled out of the garage and onto the street. A light breeze blew in through the windows and they took a deep breath of the fresh summer air.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” Elliott was looking at them, his forehead creased. His remark was involuntary; a bad habit from his eager-to-please personality. _I should have kept my mouth shut. I just ruined my whole relationship with them now, even if it was a boss-worker one. It could have developed… the stoic, hard boss falls in love with the flirty, friendly worker. You’re dumb, Elliott._

They chuckled. “It was a… a desperate attempt at flirting. But it was charming, I’ll give you that.”

Relieved at their calm reaction, Elliott began to look around their car, inspecting every detail. A weaving hung from the rear-view mirror. There were large, black feathers displayed on the dashboard above the radio, probably from Artur. He hadn’t thought to check for stickers on the bumper or back window before he got in, but they didn’t seem like that much of a car sticker person. ‘Proud owner of a feather-baby’, it would say.

“What kind of music do you like?” Truly, music was a way to view the deepest part of the soul, and Elliott definitely wanted to know what made the unique Bloth tick.

They shrugged a bit. “I do not think you would know the artists I listen to, quite frankly.”

Elliott thought to himself, _come on, Bloth, I know all the classics. I’m not that young! I appreciate good music._

They had turned down the music before Elliott got in, for they were a bit shy. It was depressing, raw, and emotional. An accurate term was ‘cry baby music’. “You could turn it up if you’d like.”

Elliott cranked the volume and, despite him turning the dial up pretty high, the gentle strums of a guitar and the vibrations of the percussion were hushed. “Is the song over or something?”

“It is meant to be quiet,” Bloth said. Their fingers lightly tapped with the beat against the steering wheel. “The whole point- er, what I believe the point is - is to focus on the emotions and the meanings of the lyrics, rather than how well-written the instrumental aspect is.”

Nodding, Elliott leaned in close to the speaker to try and hear the lyrics. After a moment, he began to repeat to Bloth what the singer was saying. “ _I’m kissing you... in my room… Holding..._ er, _a_ _nd it's just as good as I knew it would be. Stay with me, I don't want you to leave_ ,” he spoke in a questioning tone.

A rare smile appeared on their face. Elliott now had confirmation that they did, in fact, have dimples. _So cute, such a pretty face._ “What’s it called?” he asked.

“It’s ‘K.’ by Cigarettes After Sex,” Bloth replied. They began to hum along, and Elliott felt his heart squeeze in his chest.

Who could blame him for being so smitten? Their strange, elusive personality and life made him want to learn more, learn anything and everything he could about them. Their aura made them seem as if they had jumped right out of a mythical painting. Their feline, dark green eyes, their extravagant burgundy hair, and their honey brown skin were features Elliott had never seen on a person. The various scars that lined their cheek and ran across the bridge of their nose intrigued him. They seemed almost like, _uh, a nature god sent down to show the world that the purpose of trees isn’t just for fossil fuels. Sent down to help everyone embrace the ethereal feeling that you can sometimes feel when walking through a forest. The natural healing powers of nature, right in your backyard._

He dismissed the god idea when he turned to look at Bloth once more. With casual attire of a short-sleeve t-shirt and comfy sweatpants in earthy hues that complimented their entire image, and the way they were singing along to one of their favorite songs despite being in the presence of a stranger they had barely known for a week, they really did seem human at this moment. It was almost like after you make love and lay caressing the other, the feeling of being as physically close to someone as you can and realizing, damn, everyone else has a life of their own and unique experiences and a personal little voice in their head. _Elliott Witt, you are a true romantic. You should write poetry, huh? Write songs like the ones Bloth listens to. Raw, unfiltered emotion._

Being openly honest about his true emotions was one of the millions of things Elliott was not good at.

“Elliott?” The song had changed sometime during his dazed state and now it was a more upbeat, boppy song, yet it still had a strange tone to it. “If you do not mind me saying, I wish you would tell me what you’re thinking,” they added.

 _I know you’re going to leave my heart in shambles_. Elliott raised his eyebrows. “Sweetheart, why don’t you tell me what’s going on in that en- eni- enigmatic mind of yours instead?” “ _Ah, Elliott,” they’ll say to me, a blush lining their cheeks. “I am thinking about kissing you under the moonlight, feeling your strong biceps wrapped around me, embracing me… taking me.”_

Bloth bit their lip for a moment, and Elliott saw their sharp canine tug at their bottom lip. He unconsciously ran his tongue along his teeth. “I was thinking about how it’s almost time for my early summer vacation,” they said, then brought their hand to the radio and skipped to the next song. Another soft song began to play. _Not entirely true. I wonder what you would look like flustered, Elliott? Nervously thinking of a reply, your delicate face knitted with embarrassment? I want to know what you are feeling, I want to know why you walked out of your room so distressed the other night. Your handsome features lined with guilt, remorse, sorrow..._

“Summer vacation?” Elliott inquired.

Bloth glanced at him out of the corner of their eye. “Yes, a vacation for me and Artur.”

“Do you visit some kind of coven? Summon a few demons?”

“No, do you take vacations to hide out in a room made of mirrors so you can stare at yourself for hours on end?”

Elliott scoffed. “Have you seen these good looks?” _Tease me, Bloth. Keep doing it. Drag me along with your alluring accent._

“They are not half bad,” they retorted.

Now a blushing mess, Elliott turned to look out his window. _They know. They must know. Or they’re into me. God, imagine them purring in my ear as they tease me and, and, ooh boy._

Bloth cocked an eyebrow. “Jokes aside, it is almost like camping. You do not seem like the outdoors-y type, but you’re welcome to join.”

_Outdoors… in a small tent at night. “Oh, Elliott, I seemed to have only brought one sleeping bag… It’s awfully cold, I hope sharing isn’t a problem.” Of course not, dear, let me hold you and, wow, just being out in the wilderness makes us feel so… so… raw and feral, and what are you doing now Bloth? You want to keep warm by..._

“I’d love to,” Elliott simply said.

 _“I’m cold, Blothy,” he will shiver as he snuggles closer. Wrap your arms around me, I can keep you warm. Ah, the sweet embrace of a lover, the human feeling of wanting to get closer, closer, closer, get closer to me. I can keep you warm._ Bloth pursed their lips, seeing as they were almost to the store. _Why are you hurting, my love? I can help you ease all pain, give you the affection that you seek. Let me be yours, and likewise, be my sweet little prince that I must guide to complete euphoria._

“So when is it?” Elliott brushed a finger against one of the onyx feathers on the dashboard.

“We can leave whenever. We do not need much, just some food, really. I have all the gear for it.”

“Where’s this place at?”

“We go a bit out of the city. It is about a two-hour drive to get there.” They pulled into the parking lot for the store and weaved down the aisles, looking for a place to park. “If you’re worried about having to hike, there is none of that.”

Elliott shrugged. “Wasn’t worried. I’m just excited. It sounds fun. What do you do when you’re there?”

Bloth pulled into a parking space and shut off the car. They left the windows cracked so that it wasn’t as hot as an oven when they returned. They got out of the car and headed towards the entrance, and Elliott followed suit.

Once they got in the air conditioning of the store, they answered his question. “We spend a couple of days relaxing. Enjoying nature. Nothing too special.”

Elliott noticed the constant usage of ‘we’ from them when discussing the trip. “When you say we… are there other people going?”

“Um, no. Just me and _barnið fugl._ ” When Elliott looked at them with a questioning look, they felt a twinge of embarrassment. “Sorry, I mean Artur.”

Elliott grabbed a cart for them and followed them. “Aw, was that a nickname for Artur?”

Heading down the hair products aisle, Bloth bashfully kept their gaze away from Elliott’s. “Yes, and I could call you a _heillandi hálfviti.”_

“What’s that mean, honeybun?”

“‘Complete idiot’. Are you a fan of nicknames? You called me ‘sweetheart’ earlier and 'honeybun' just now.” They stopped in front of a display of shampoos and conditioners. _I cannot stroke your ego, dear Elliott. But you are a ‘charming idiot’. I must give you a bit more credit; that is just the way you have been molded to act for society’s standards. You are a real person, Elliott Witt. I know you can be yourself._

He began to pick through the bottles to decide which one to get. It wasn’t a decision based on what sort of ‘energizing’ it did for his hair, but rather how good it smelled. “Actually, yeah. They’re a, um, representation of companionship between people.”

“And what kind of companionship are you looking for?” They chimed.

Elliott held up two bottles and presented them to them. “What you want,” he barely stuttered out.

They moved their small braid to rest behind their pierced ear. “I will call you ‘Eli’, then.”

“That’s actually really nice…” Hearing the nickname elicited a feeling deep in his heart. A strange sense of déjà vu began to form, but he tried to ignore it. He placed the bottles in the cart and followed along as Bloth entered the food section. “But now I gotta think of a name for you.”

“No rush,” Bloth said. They looked around for a moment. “What kind of food do you like?”

Elliott sighed happily. “Pork chops. Definitely. I could go on and on about them… the breaded outer layer, the mouth-watering pork contents… the chop of the pork… I love pork chops.”

 _You are truly a dork. I like this side of you better._ “I have never had one, much less cooked them before. Do you know how to make them?” 

“Duh, of course! It’s a recipe that’s been passed down from my great grandfather Gryz W- ah, um, wow, it’s good.” He began to head to the butcher area and sifted through the packaged meat. He held up a package that contained two chops of pork. “So we can each have one,” Elliott claimed.

Bloth shrugged. “As long as you make it, I will try it.”

Elliott sought out the rest of the ingredients and placed them in the cart. “You can just sit and relax while I cook your dinner… and charm you over with my amazing cooking.”

Bloth shook their head, dismissing his flirt.

Elliott tapped his fingers on the armrest as he pondered on the drive home. Bloth was bobbing their head along to a song about craving kisses and the touch of a lover, from what Elliott could hear from the soft-spoken lyrics.

“Why have you been so nice to me?” Elliott asked suddenly.

Bloth took a moment to focus. “Is that not how you make friends with someone, perhaps progress into something more?” The corner of their mouth raised in a small smile.

“No, I’m being serious. You… you let me into your home, you make me breakfast, you paid for all my g- gr- groceries and stuff… for god’s sake, you invited me on your vacation! We met only, um, three days ago? Maybe four?”

They were a bit offended, although they weren’t the kind to openly show that side of their emotions. “Eli, you came to me late at night during a thunderstorm. I can tell… I know that you need help. I’m sorry if it seems I am imposing on your life. Something, ah, damn, this will sound strange… Since the day I first met you, I knew that there was a purpose to our encounter. And… and if you think this is all a little strange, you are free to leave. Maybe I was being a little too comfortable, too welcoming.” Bloth shrugged bashfully. “I like you, Elliott. You are different. I want to get to know you… the _real_ you.”

Self-consciously, Elliott played with his hair. “I don’t want to leave. Yeah, it’s a little weird that a stranger welcomed me with open arms, but spending time with you and hanging out in the shop has made me forget the troubles in my life. Also, you make a fuckin’ good breakfast. I haven’t eaten that well since I moved away from home... And, um, I’m sorry about being mean when we first met… and my awkward flirting. I’m just a naturally romantic guy.” _That’s the truth. I’ve been a flirt since I was young! Dated everyone in the third-grade, a record in my class._

Bloth raised an eyebrow. “You probably flirt with everyone, yet you still do not have any good ones?”

“Well, when my flirts are directed at such a bewitching person, it’s kinda hard to not stutter and stuff,” he said.

 _That wasn’t half bad. Subtle, but endearing._ Bloth turned right onto their block. “You are charming, Eli.” 

“And you’re, uh, incredible,” Elliott responded. "And strange. In a good way, of course!"

Bloth waved goodnight to Elliott as he slinked off into his room. Artur was snuggled up in the hoodie of their sweatshirt. They flipped through the channels on the television absentmindedly. “Artur, how do you like him?” They reached behind their back and petted the raven. He responded with a sleepy chirp.

_Your cute stutters, the way your curls fall across your face, the dorky comments… Elliott, dear Elliott, you must know you are irresistible. Even I have fallen for your sweet words._

_The moment you walked into my shop… I knew you were aching. You needed help. The aura of pain; so easy to detect. My weak, sympathetic heart begs to help your pitiful soul. I want to embrace you, hold you close to my heart. Poor Eli, you were sent for a reason._

Bloth shut off the television, carefully cradled Artur like a child, and brought him to his bird bed. “Goodnight, _félagi,”_ they whispered as they kissed his head. They then headed to the bathroom for a late-night shower. Slowly, they removed their clothes and stepped in, the hot water beating on their skin.

_Ah, the ways to describe love. With the Greeks and their seven kinds of love, isn’t that a bit excessive? Or, the common phrases in poetry that describe love as a hunger… a drive, of sorts. How did Pablo Neruda put it? ‘I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day, I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.’_

_Rather strange. But suitable. Love feels like a journey… a newfound energy that lights up your life. Soon you are craving to touch them, feel them, take them… like food. Elliott, I feel for you the same way you feel about pork chops. Hungry, craving, begging for more. Oh, tease me! Flirt with me. Show me who you really are._

_Show me who you are, Eli._

And that was that. The independent, cocky Bloth had caught some feelings for the dorky, troubled Elliott Witt. It was inevitable, they reasoned to themself.


	5. Chapter 5

He stared at the phone lying on his desk. The screen lit up for a brief moment as he got an email from a business partner. He swiped the notification away.

_Am I being an asshole? No, it’s natural to be a bit distant… I’m afraid… I’m scared. Every phone call, every visit, just feels like… another day closer... I've finally been feeling a lot better mentally. Maybe I am a huge jerk for even thinking about this._

Elliott picked up the phone and began to call her. He did not have to wait long for her to pick up.

“Hey, Mom,” Elliott smiled gently as he heard her voice. “I wanted to see how you’re doing.” He nodded along to the summary of her life over the past couple of weeks. Mostly the usual. His brother Riley had visited her, which wasn’t surprising. He was always dropping in on her. Elliott paid the bills at the nursing home, Riley and his other two brothers did the visiting...

His mother paused for a moment. “Can I ask who’s calling me?”

Raising a hand to rub his closed eyes, Elliott replied. “Mom, it’s Elliott… your son.”

“Elliott?” He could hear someone murmuring to her in the background. “Oh, of course. Elliott.”

A lump began to grow in his throat. This was normal. She often forgot his brothers’ names too. Forgot basic stuff.

“Um, how are you doing?” Elliott’s mom, Evelyn, broke the silence.

“Fine, I’m doing fine. Working at a bookstore. That’s pretty fun.” He absentmindedly picked at his nails. “I’m glad to hear you’re doing good, too. Uh, I should go… work is pretty busy right now.”

“I love you, Eli.” Her voice was soft. Despite all the forgetfulness and mood swings, her gentle tone remained.

“Love you too. I’ll visit soon.”

She hung up the call.

She had forgotten his name. It wasn’t like it hadn’t happened before, but it was still a punch in the gut every time she questioned his voice over the phone, or forgot the fact that she even had sons.

Every single time they talked, every single time he visited, it seemed to be getting worse. It had already been about six years since she was diagnosed, and endless nights of studying confirmed his worst fears; he had very little time left with her.

He was afraid. He wished everything was normal, and that he could be back at home with his mom and his brothers and all of them hanging out and not having to worry about why Mom was forgetting important dates or why she was finding it increasingly difficult to do simple tasks.

Taking in a deep breath, he stood up and walked over to the mirror on the vanity. His beard needed a trim.

He would need to pay the bill for the nursing home soon. It was easy when he was acting in movies and getting paid, but now he was just an assistant in a little bookstore. Bloth did pay him quite generously along with a place to live and food, but it still wouldn’t be enough. Forget asking his brothers for help; all of them had agreed that Elliott would be able to pay off any fees. He needed to get a gig, and soon.

Picking up his phone once more, Elliott checked the email he had gotten earlier. He read the contents quickly, something about a photo shoot for a magazine.

He hated being a celebrity. The world saw him as charming, open, flirty, friendly, sexy… not at all what he expected to be when he was younger. Not at all what his real personality was like. _Well, I am pretty hot._ But he needed lots of cash fast once his mother began to reside in the nursing home. An offer showed up, he took it, and almost overnight he became Elliott Witt, the devilishly handsome star.

He laid awake many, many nights, torturing himself at his stupidity. The act of a famous movie star had even entered his personal life, with all his relationships relying on the fact that he was cool and confident. His lover had fallen for his celebrity personality, not his true self. Nobody would love a dork. They wanted a famous boyfriend, not a dumb nobody…

 _The attention is great! Most of the time. Sometimes. Not a lot of the time_. All he really wanted was someone who would pay attention to the real him, and not just his money and fame.

_How much easier life would be if I was a computer fixer-person, or something! I’m good at tech-y things. I could’ve done that._

Oh, how he would love to _snap_ , almost, and act his normal self. Calm, loving, caring, nerdy, and still a bit flirty… but that wouldn’t fit his movie roles. Lusty, mysterious Elliott Witt is what the public wanted, and that is what he would give them.

He was doing all this to help his mother.

_I envy Bloth. Living their life in their bookstore, chilling with their little bird, being their own boss, having a life where they can act themselves… are they single? Isn’t someone else already sharing this life with them? Wouldn’t they have already brought them up? They wouldn’t have let me stay in their house if they were dating someone…_

_Spending the rest of my days in a bookstore… waking up every morning to the smell of bacon… falling asleep with Bloth beside me… maybe have a family eventually. My kids visiting their grandmother. That’s all stretching it. Wouldn’t that be nice, though?_

_The nice thing is… I can naturally act like myself around Bloth. And they still like me for it. So why can’t I be myself around others?_

“Elliott, we are opening soon!” Bloth called from the other room. Elliott heard them walk down the stairs to the shop, with Artur chirping alongside them.

He began to reply to the email for the photo shoot. It would be enough to cover the next bill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for such a short chapter... but i had to get some plot points in. thank you for reading : )


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